Dan Smith - Red Winter

‘Is that right?’

Orlov shrugged. ‘Maybe. Others say he deserted. Left his unit like a coward.’

‘Maybe he just wanted to go home.’

‘And who would blame him?’ Orlov said. ‘Don’t we all just want to go home? Except it isn’t permitted.’

‘He doesn’t sound like a coward to me.’

‘Nor to me. And yet they say that men from his own unit are hunting him down to bring him to justice. Just like you’re looking for someone,’ he said. ‘Who are you looking for, Doctor ?’

I put the glass down without emptying its contents. I had drunk enough already, and I needed to keep my wits about me. The alcohol would slow me, diminishing my chances of leaving the carriage alive. Outside, Lev and Anna were expecting my quick return, relying on me to lead them to safety. I would not let them down.

‘Well?’ Orlov waited for a reply.

I held my hands together to stop them from shaking and met his stare, wondering if he was going to shoot me or call for me to be arrested. But he had come from north of here; perhaps he knew something that could help me. ‘I’m looking for a man who calls himself Koschei.’

‘Like the story?’

I nodded and told myself to relax. I breathed steadily, loosened my hands and let them separate to hang by my sides, ready to act.

‘I never understood that story,’ Orlov said. ‘Why they called him “the Deathless”. Every story I ever heard about him, he dies at the end. I suppose that’s the truth, isn’t it? Eventually everybody dies, no matter who we are. Even me.’

I said nothing and the commander shifted round in his chair a little more, the pistol still in his hand, the muzzle towards me. All it would take was for his finger to twitch.

‘I’ve heard of a man who call himself by that name,’ he said. ‘A Chekist.’

And with those words, my attention sharpened. ‘Do you know who he is?’

‘Nobody. Somebody.’ Orlov shook his head. ‘I overhear the men talking when I’m sitting in here, but I’ve heard so many names. Krukov, Levitsky…’ He watched me for a reaction. ‘Other names I forget.’

‘Krukov?’

Orlov shrugged. ‘That’s a name I heard.’

I knew Krukov: we were from the same unit. I had fought alongside him, and now I saw his face. Lean and gaunt. I could understand why men might call him Koschei. Like the spectre in the skazka , Krukov was tall and thin and drawn. His beard was long enough to touch his chest, and he carried a sword, too. But if Orlov was right – if Koschei and Krukov were the same man – then what the young soldier outside had said could be true. Perhaps I had been responsible for loosing Koschei upon the world. If I had not deserted, he would never have been able to perpetrate such acts as he had.

Belev would have been safe.

If Alek and I had stayed with our unit, Koschei might never have gone into our village, and that sense of responsibility was like a weight crushing down on me. My mind reeled as it followed the thread of events that could have led to Krukov’s metamorphosis into Koschei. If I had not run, so much would be different.

‘You know where he is?’ My mouth was dry, my throat tight. My skin crawled and grew cold. The smoky air suddenly felt thick and claustrophobic.

‘No idea. First I even heard of him was a few weeks ago, but it was just stories. Hearsay about the things he had done. Yesterday, we took one of his men on board. Maybe he could give you—’

‘I saw him.’ My voice seemed to come from someone else. ‘He’s dead. What else can you tell me?’

‘Not much. My commanders are afraid of the Cheka, so they don’t ask too many questions, but he said he was with a small group escorting prisoners to a camp north of Dolinsk. His own men turned on him for some reason.’

‘Prisoners? You’re sure?’ I couldn’t hide my concern.

Orlov raised his eyebrows in interest. ‘Mm-hmm. It’s what he said.’

‘Women and children?’

‘I think so.’

Prisoners . It was a single word that gave me renewed hope. If Stanislav Dotsenko had been with Koschei and was then transporting prisoners, there was a greater chance for Marianna and the boys.

‘From what they say, I think a lot of people would want to kill this man Koschei, but why do you want to kill him?’

‘He took my family.’

‘Then I can see why you’re interested to hear about prisoners, and why you’d want to find him.’ Orlov nodded. ‘I have a family – a wife and son in Moscow. So far away.’

‘You’re wounded; you can go back to them.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe if I could walk like you can. Maybe if this damned leg wasn’t so rotten.’ He snatched his glass from the table and stared into it.

‘Do you have any prisoners on board this train?’ I asked.

‘You mean civilians?’

I nodded.

‘You mean, did the Chekists give their prisoners to us?’

I nodded once more.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Your family is not here. You have my word on that.’

I felt a mix of emotions at this news. There was relief that Marianna and the boys were not cooped up and starving inside one of the carriages, and there was disappointment because I still didn’t know where they were. But Koschei did have prisoners – Orlov had told me that much – and that gave me more hope that they were still alive.

‘You know what I would do if I found Nikolai Levitsky?’ Orlov said. ‘If, for instance, he walked into my carriage right here on this train and told me he was looking for his family? Like you are, I mean.’

‘No. What would you say?’

‘I’d tell him to keep running. To keep looking. To find this man Koschei and tear out his heart for taking his family.’

‘Why?’

‘Because now I understand what is important. Not fighting. Not war. Not revolution. None of this shit. Family . Family is what matters. In all this mess…’ Holding the pistol, he swept his hand around him. ‘In all this mess, nothing matters anymore except family. Not the revolution, not Lenin and definitely not the idiot who ordered me back to Tambov.’

His words were enough to warrant execution.

‘I’ll never see my family again,’ he said, lowering his voice and becoming reflective. ‘With this leg, I won’t last more than another week. I’m rotting away right here in this carriage and they’re sending me back south to die.’

‘I can still dress it for you,’ I said. ‘I know how.’

‘I imagine you’ve seen a few wounds in your time.’

‘Maybe you’ll find a surgeon who—’

‘A surgeon?’ he sneered. ‘Out here? Not a chance. Anyway, I don’t want to be half a man. I’m a soldier.’ Commander Orlov looked up at me. ‘But if I knew that a man like Nikolai Levitsky was out there looking for his family, I would tell him to find them and take them somewhere small.’

‘Small?’

‘Somewhere unimportant. Invisible. Because even when this war is won – and it will be the Bolsheviks who win it, I’m sure of that – there still won’t be any peace. Not for anyone.’ He raised his glass and toasted, saying, ‘Family.’

Orlov placed the glass on the table, then turned the pistol once more in his hands. ‘Time for you to go,’ he said. ‘We both have things to do.’

‘Thank you, Commander.’ I stepped out and closed the door.

Returning through the carriage, the soldiers hardly watched me pass, but I was relieved to reach the far end and come out into the fresh air. I wanted to be back on Koschei’s trail straight away. Commander Orlov’s information had given me greater hope and I felt a renewed urgency. I was eager to return to Kashtan, to Lev and Anna, and to be away from this place.